Uniform Procedures
by Rinforzando
Summary: Life has just never prepared Nico to deal with really, really good-looking police officers. One-shot; AU.


A/N: Completely self-indulgent. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Love Live! School Idol Project_.

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Uniform Procedures

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There are many things that Nico has regretted saying in her life, but blurting out, "Are you going to frisk me," to the cop that just pulled her probably (definitely) ranks as the most mortifying thing that's ever come out of her mouth.

"I—excuse me?" the officer splutters, eyebrows shooting up to her hairline, dropping her pen and looking just about as embarrassed as Nico feels.

Nico grimaces and wishes that maybe, _maybe_ some merciful deity out there would just make her car spontaneously combust to spare her the humiliation. To be fair, though, she's never, _ever_, been pulled over before: a spotless record means ignorance of these sorts of procedures, and ignorance apparently translates into careless, flustered word vomits that couldn't have made her sound more like a creep with a kink for submission role play. But even so, there's not much she can do to salvage any semblance of calm when the traffic police officer in front of her looks like a goddamn model out of a women's fitness magazine. Red hair tied back into a low ponytail, shades perched atop a straight-edged nose, police uniform fitted nice and snug against her lissome body frame, accentuating the robust arch of her hips, the svelte curves of her waist—honestly, it's _illegal_ how attractive she is, and Nico can't really blame herself for being a little (a lot) star-struck.

"We… we don't usually frisk people without any reasonable suspicion, ma'am," the cop replies after recollecting herself, settling back into the cold, professional neutrality expected of intimidating traffic police officers. She removes her sunglasses to look at Nico directly, and it's then that Nico sees that the officer's eyes—her vibrant violet eyes—are actually twinkling in amusement despite her otherwise stoic features. "Your I.D.," she says, handing over Nico's license. "Just had to make sure you weren't an unauthorized driver."

"Oh," Nico says eloquently, taking back her card, attempting very hard not to avert her eyes and stare at the cop's smooth, well-toned forearms, or at her very, very pretty symmetrical face. Instead, Nico focuses straight ahead, right at the area between the officer's brows. Yes, this is safe, she thinks, trying her best not to let her eyes stray to other aesthetically pleasing features in her peripheral vision. No, Nico, she tells herself, don't look at the pretty officer's lean biceps. Don't look at her long, slender fingers. Don't imagine anything. Don't fantasize. _Don't_.

Her knuckles turn white around the steering wheel.

"Ma'am." The officer—Nishikino, Nico guesses from the nameplate tacked onto her chest—bends over to lean against her window.

"Yes," Nico squeaks, flushing at the sudden close proximity, cursing her luck that out of all the officers that she could've gotten, it _has_ to be a hot one.

"Are you aware of why you've been pulled over?" Officer Nishikino asks, frowning at her.

Nico can't help it. Her gaze travels to the officer's plump, downturned lips for about half a second before darting away and fixing itself on her peaked cap instead. Nico swallows a lump in her throat. "No," she replies, voice hoarser than she would've liked. "I know I wasn't speeding. I always check."

"That's good."

Nico hitches a breath when Officer Nishikino actually _smiles_. At _her. _A blush rises to her face before she can stop it, and it's just—_god_, she's too gay to deal with hot and intimidating lady cops giving her cheeky grins. She squirms in her seat. "Thanks?" she manages to say without stuttering.

"You know, that's actually refreshing to hear. You seem like a responsible driver—almost like a vigilant parent."

"I-I'm not _that _old," Nico protests.

"Oh, I know," Officer Nishikino says, almost smugly, and that's when Nico realizes that, _lord help her_, the hot lady cop _checked out her age when she had her license_.

"And I don't have kids."

"I see."

"I'm also single." Oh god, why did she say that.

"Huh."

"Officer," Nico grinds out, wanting very much to take a magazine to either fan or smack herself, "not that I'm in a big hurry or anything, but was there actually a _reason _for you stopping me, or…"

"Your left rear turn signal is broken," Officer Nishikino says, pushing herself off the door and backing away from her car. _Finally_. Nico lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "You're going to have to make do with hand signals—you know what they are, yes?"

"Of course."

"Excellent. Hold on." When the officer bends down to pick up the pen she'd dropped earlier, Nico forgets her manners and stares rather shamelessly at what she assumes are very firm, tight gluts underneath the uniform pants. It's not until the officer shoves a note into her hands that she snaps out of her reverie of indecent speculations and remembers herself.

"I wrote down the number of a mechanic shop that I trust," Officer Nishikino explains, taking Nico's hand and cupping her palms around the paper. "You'll want to get that light fixed as soon as possible."

Nico tries not to choke when the officer's fingers graze hers, and maybe she's completely imagining the coy looks and the knowing smiles, but she can _swear _that Officer Nishikino is doing it on purpose. Maybe. "R-Right… Thank you."

"Have a good day, ma'am. Safe driving." The officer tips her hat and peeks at Nico from underneath the visor. "Hopefully I'll see you around," she says before turning back to her vehicle, and because Nico has no self-restraint and is a terrible voyeur, she watches the cop from her car's side mirror, eyes lingering on her swaying hips.

_Hopefully I'll see you around._

What.

_What._

Nico whips open the folded note, and sure enough, aside from the number of the mechanic shop, there's a message in crisp, neat handwriting.

_If you really want to try out frisking, feel free to call the mechanic shop this Saturday after 6pm. I work there on my off time. Ask for Nishikino Maki._

Her hands shake as she rereads the note two, three—seven more times, and by the time she manages to recover from the shock of _a hot lady cop propositioning her (wait, this _is _a proposition right?)_, the police car is already rounding the corner and disappearing from view.

The rest of the day, Nico can't think of anything but Officer Nishikino bending her over at her car, pinning and subduing her against the trunk with a police baton, grasping both her wrists and handcuffing her hands behind her back, whispering into her ear about how bad she's been, taking advantage of her vulnerable position to frisk her slowly, thoroughly, raking her hands from her collarbone, over her chest, down to both sides of her waist before patting down every centimeter of her thighs.

Nico doesn't get any sleep that night.


End file.
